


Twisted Symmetry

by MUSEquera



Category: Muse
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MUSEquera/pseuds/MUSEquera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my entry for the <a href="http://stellarclouds.livejournal.com/">StellarClouds</a> July challenge: Two Sides to Every Story. Normal text is one pov, italics is the other.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Twisted Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the [StellarClouds](http://stellarclouds.livejournal.com/) July challenge: Two Sides to Every Story. Normal text is one pov, italics is the other.

You're dancing with another man.

_I'm dancing with another man._

"You don't own me." you spat at me before leaving, eyes cold and fists clenched at your sides, marching off towards the bar. My heart clenched inside my chest as I saw you scan the room, knowing what was coming, and it didn't take long, you're irresistible when you're trying.

_I was so mad at you... I wanted to teach you a lesson. I thought it would be fun, to prowl the room, to use my eyes as bait, to flirt and laugh and dance with someone else, to make you see that you do not own me._

It's my punishment. And it's killing me. But I know I deserve it, my insane fear of losing you turning me into a possessive, jealous jerk. Wild and free, you will not be bound. Your love, your affection, your regard, the warm smile in your beautiful eyes, the glory of your body, are all gifts you chooses to bestow, not to be demanded or cajoled.

_Why does it have to be this way? Why is my love not enough for you? I feel fenced in, smothered by your fears and insecurities, caged by your love. It shouldn't be like this. I try. I try until my teeth hurt from grinding them together and I feel like screaming. I love you so much... Why does it hurt? Why do I feel like I need to run away?_

So here I sit, watching helplessly as another man's hands rest on your swaying hips, as another man's body presses against you, as another man's lips brush your skin to whisper in your ear. I die inside as you looks at me over the other man's shoulder, your eyes fierce and defiant before they seek his eyes, training the full power of your gaze on them, your face lighting up in a smile in response to the whispered words.

_I never expected the longing that washed over me as arms that weren't yours held me close to a body that does not fit mine the way yours does. But you know me, stubborn to the point of stupidity, I'm playing this out to the end. So I look at you to make sure you're seeing this, and then turn to him and smile at his inane comment, encouraging him with my eyes. I hope it hurts, I think spitefully, resenting you because you're not the one holding me._

I look on. I force myself to watch as you close your eyes, your arms around the stranger's neck, losing yourself in the beat of the music. I die inside as I see the look on your face as you settle into the dance, it is the way you look when you are in my arms, eyes closed, long eyelashes barely kissing your skin; sharp features relaxed and lips slightly parted in a soft smile. 

_I close my eyes and let my body sink into the music, trying to forget about you and your wounded puppy eyes, trying to let the rhythm wash away the bitter taste in my throat, but it is not working. His hands roam my back, pulling me closer, and I want to push him away and run into your arms. I force myself to stay, though, see the dance out. I imagine your body moving with mine, your fingers combing through my hair, your skin under my lips, and suddenly this stranger's arms around me are bearable. It is you I'm dancing with, not him._

I want to march to the dance floor and rip you off his arms, hold you tight against my body until your sharp edges bruise me, kiss you until there is no air left in my lungs, beg your forgiveness. But that would be adding fuel to the fire of your righteous anger, so I wait until the dance ends, and hope you comes back to me of your own will.

_Why am I doing this? Cold reality slaps me in the face. Here I am, in some random guy's arms, and the only way I can stand it is pretending it is you holding me. Some lesson I'm teaching you. I grit my teeth, body and soul yearning for you, and force myself to finish the dance as a lesson to myself. God, I'm a stupid git!_

Oh, thank you lord, it is the end of the song. Heart in my mouth, I look on as the stranger's hands linger on your hips, and I want to punch his smug smile off his face as he tries to pull you away towards the back, but relief washes over me as you politely disentangle yourself from him. My heart stops in my chest as you turn around and look straight at me, and I watch incredulously, barely daring to breathe, as you slowly raise your arm and, with a soft smile, extend your hand to me.

_Remind me to apologise to the poor guy sometime, it really isn't fair, or even barely polite, the way I dismiss him at the end of the dance. I believe the appropriate word for what I have done to him is 'cocktease', and he has the good grace to keep it to himself. But I cannot wait. I turn away from him as if he were nothing, less than nothing—which is what he is to me—and meet your eyes, wincing at the mingled fear and hope in them. Without hesitation, my need for you bypassing conscious thought, I smile and extend my hand to you, hoping with all my heart that you will accept it._

The tide of relief that washes over me leaves me weak-kneed and blurry eyed, but I struggle to my feet, walking the short distance to the dance floor in a daze, stumbling into bodies because I only have eyes for you. I ignore your extended hand and launch myself at you, clinging desperately and burying my face in the crook of your neck, letting your scent wash over me like a salve as I babble apologies against your skin.

_My arms hold you to me gratefully. Yes, this is the real you, your arms around me, your lips on my skin, your body pressing against mine. I close my eyes in relief and thank my lucky stars that I haven't lost you with my stupid little stunt. My fingers stroke your soft hair and my lips brush your ear, whispered apologies falling from them in an unstoppable flood, oblivious of everything but the way you feel._

I love you.

_I love you._

No. I do not own you. But you own my heart and soul.

_No, you do not own me. But my heart didn't get the memo._


End file.
